


rockfall

by Skyuni123



Series: Stargate SG-1 Series 5: One Fic Per Episode [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s05e13 Proving Ground, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Geek Love, Historical References, Rare Pairings, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Post Proving Ground, Daniel and Satterfield are trapped in a rockfall on a digsite. Chat ensues.
Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Satterfield
Series: Stargate SG-1 Series 5: One Fic Per Episode [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012317
Kudos: 4





	rockfall

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this was cute. 
> 
> It was also only supposed to be 1k words.

"Unbelievable." Daniel sighs, and leans back against the wall of the cave. It really is, unfortunately, unbelievable. Simple, routine mission. Simple routine mission. SIMPLE ROUTINE MISSION. 

Until there'd been an earthquake. And a cave in. And now he's stuck in a cave, by himself, head thumping, parts of him definitely bleeding, and only a handful of glowsticks to see anything. 

They were just going to P8X191 to check out a series of interesting wall hangings, carved into the stone walls of the cave that the Stargate was lost in, but then, twenty five minutes after he'd started dusting them down, the ground had shook, Captain Johnson, the team leader - a bastard, but harmless - had yelled "Get to cover," and he'd found himself trapped under a pile of rubble. Not the first time, but certainly one of the most painful.

Daniel pulls one of the glowsticks closer, and checks his hands. Definitely blood. He touches his forehead and it comes away wet. Even better. Through his vision - that's a little blurred on the edges - he just manages to reach into one of the pouches on his vest and pull out a field dressing. It does enough to stem the blood flow from his head, but he still doesn't feel great. 

He'd call out, but he doesn't remember any of their names. There had been two SG teams - one of which had arrived just before the rockfall, but he didn't really know any of them and hadn't even seen who was in the second team. Dammit. He'll have to call for Johnson. "Captain Johnson?" He yells, but there's not that much distance between him and the rock surrounding him, and all it does is echo around the cavern he's found himself in.

It's maybe two metres by two metres? Something like that. It's not nearly as big as he'd like. 

He tries again. "Captain Johnson?" 

There's a groan from one of the piles of rubble to his left. "Doctor... Jackson?"

He knows that voice... had run into her recently... The training mission, the foothold situation. Hang on. "Satterfield?"

She groans, rocks shifting gently. "That's me."

Daniel picks up the glowsticks and crawls gently in her direction, wishing he has more space, wishing that he's not trapped under a fairly precarious rockfall. "Keep talking to me, I'll come and get you out."

"That would be really great, thank you." 

She keeps on groaning at every couple of words, but after a minute or so, Daniel can see her. Just. She's covered in debris, though most of it looks fairly light. 

"Can you move?" He asks.

"Yes. I don't think anything's broken, I was just- I was just too afraid to try." She says. "I'm not scared of small spaces, but I don't really want to be trapped here, you understand?"

"I feel the same way." He can just see her outline with the bright edge of the glowstick. He starts brushing away at the dirt. "I'll get you out of there. Just wait a sec."

"We've got all the time in the world." She replies, a little snarkily, and he grins. 

It doesn't take him long to dig away most of the rubble. It's fortunately not holding the roof up or anything, so it's quite easy to shift the worst of it off and help Satterfield sit up.

Even he, with his terrible eyesight and general head wound, can see her blush as she spots him. She goes slightly pink. "Uh... thank you. It's nice to see you. Uh- If I say anything dumb in the next little while, ignore it? I'm almost definitely concussed."

"Same on my end." He says, and leads her back towards the widened out cavern space.

There's enough space that they can sit on opposite walls without touching. Just. 

"So..." He says, because it's a little awkward. Crushes... he doesn't exactly do well with them. He's fended off more than he'd expect at the SGC in the past. Something about his lack of a military designation. Or something. "How's it... going?" 

"Currently, or in general?" She asks. 

He takes the bait. "Currently." 

"Well, we're trapped under a rockfall, Doctor Jackson, so I think things could be better. Also, I'm not sure if you can do anything about this, but I'm pretty sure I've broken my foot." 

If he squints, he can just see it. Her ankle, lying at an odd angle. "Not ideal."

"No." She says, ruefully. "Probably shouldn't take my boot off."

"Leave that to the professionals. I've got... some painkillers, but I doubt it's anything more than you'll have." 

"I'm fine." She waves it off with a slight nod. "High pain tolerance. One of the reasons they chose me for an SG team, outside the whole classics and history background." 

"In general?"

"In general."

"How are things, in general? I've not seen you - well, since the real-world mission training."

She brightens. "Really good, actually. I still keep up with Hailey and Elliot, though Grogan is a bit of a lost cause. I got assigned to this team-"

"Yes, which team is it anyway? I didn't catch your designation and you came through just as the rocks fell."

"SG-22." 

"Nice." He replies. He can't for the life of him remember who is on that team, or anything about it, but he'll have to make do for the time being. "Enjoying it?"

She smiles, eyes glowing. It's a really nice smile, and he mentally chastises himself for noticing. "I love it. It's the most fulfilling work I've ever had, and so fascinating! There's just nothing like learning about completely new civilisations, completely new worlds... I could do it for the rest of my life." 

"I get it." He says. "More than you can know." 

His happiest place is places like this. When there's no rockfall, just him, languages to translate and puzzles to solve. He says the same to Satterfield.

"It's being the detective to your own personal mystery." She says, a little wistfully. "I just wish I had been given the chance to look at these before the rocks fell." She sighs. "I didn't realise there was any kind of active tectonic plate activity in the area."

"There certainly wasn't any when the MALP came through, or since then. This is the first earthquake we've seen in our monitoring."

Her brow furrows. "Interesting. Maybe it's localised. Did one of the men touch something?" 

He snorts, because it's the first question he always asks himself when something bad goes down in an ancient room - though he'd be replacing 'men' with 'Jack'. "I didn't see anything happen, but it's possible."

She rolls her eyes. "The amount of times... I swear. They have no faith in us. No patience. I could sit here all day."

"Yeah." 

They lapse into silence for a few moments. It's not bad, not terrible, just silence.

“...What about you?” Satterfield asks. “What have you been doing, Doctor Jackson?” 

“First off, Satterfield, you don’t need to call me Doctor Jackson.” He says, gently. “Leave that for the conference organisers and airmen to do. Daniel’s fine.” 

“Daniel.” She repeats. Somehow, her blush gets even redder. “Fine. Then, call me Ellie. That’s- that’s my name.” 

“Ellie.” He says. “I’m Daniel. Hi. If we’re going to be stuck here for a while, I recommend we don’t talk shop. It’ll get boring after a while.” 

“Boring?” She asks. “Really?”

“Definitely.” Ah. So fresh in the field. To be new to the Stargate programme again. “Let me be clear, I love my job. I love doing this, but you try being stuck translating the Mesopotamian version of tax documents for two straight weeks, and you’ll pray for the days where you were stuck in a rockfall.”

“Mmm.” She muses, and pillows her chin on her hands. “So. No shop talk. How… are you?”

How is he? Tired, headachy, dizzy. In general? Pretty good. He says as much to her. “You?”

“Same. My foot hurts.” She murmurs, strangely slowly. “Throbbing. And my head.” Her eyes close for a moment. “Tired.” 

“You shouldn’t sleep.” Daniel says, suddenly a little concerned. “Concussion, remember?”

“Yeah.” She says, eyes shuttering closed again. “Yeah, I won’t.”

Not good. Not good at all. He grasps his glowsticks and crawls across to her. 

She’s still conscious, and he shakes her arm, a little. She groans and lifts her head. “Don’t want to sit up.” 

“You’ve got to.” He pulls her back so she’s at more of an angle, one that’s harder to fall asleep in. “Come on, Ellie.” 

It’s then that he notices she’s bleeding. All down the back of her scalp. It’s thick, and heavy. He swears. “Dammit, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“What?”

“You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“Mhmm.” She scrabbles at her tac belt for the same kind of wound dressing, fingers slipping over the fastenings. “Probably should fix that.”

“I’ll do it.” He reaches for the dressings and does it himself, taping a wad of cotton over the back of her head.

She winces as he does it, cries out in pain, but doesn’t move. It looks like she’s on the verge of sleep again. 

“You need a doctor.” He says, settling down next to her, one arm loosely thrown across her back to stop her hitting her wound on the wall. “Soon.”

“Little rockfall problem, Daniel.” She says, quietly. 

“I know. Just stating the obvious. Like I always do. Don’t mind me."

"Mmmm." 

He can feel her drifting off again, so he shakes her shoulder this time, arm involuntarily resting against the warm patch at the back of her neck. "Nope. No sleeping. Uh. Tell me about yourself. What's your life like? Outside of the SGC?"

"About as uneventful as yours, I'm sure." She says, stifling a yawn. "Not much going on." 

"Yeah, but surely you've got family." He continues, leaning in a little closer. "Friends. Hobbies."

"You want to know?"

Oh, he's definitely feeding her crush, right now, but it's more important that she stays awake. Any of the minutiae, any of the rest of it, it can wait until later. He'll figure out the consequences once they get out of the cave. "I do. Tell me things." 

"Mom and dad split up..." She trails off, and he has to nudge her to keep her awake. "Split up. Uh. A while ago. Sister lives in Colorado. Grace. She's a fashion designer for some big company. I don't really get it."

"Not your thing?"

"Does anyone at the SGC really like fashion?"

"I mean, I hardly see my teammates out of their BDUs. Surely, though. Surely there's someone with a hidden streak of style somewhere." He snorts. Jack's Hawaiian shirts, though a statement, don't count.

"And you?"

"Huh?"

"Fashion? Style? You've got a..." She waves a floppy hand in his direction, barely managing to lift it off her lap. "Thing going on."

"That's nice of you to say."

"Is true."

"Same as the others I suppose. I'm really just a jeans and tee kinda guy when I'm not on the base. Lots of ugly shirts." Hoodies and sweatpants is probably more accurate, when he gets home. If he gets home. That kind of thing is more rare these days. 

"Mhmm." She looks him over, sleepily, but still with a degree of want to it, and visibly decides not to say anything. "Me too. I live for ugly shirts. They’re comforting." 

"Do you see your sister much?" 

"Not much." She shrugs. "Love her and all but... She could be less naggy about things."

Daniel can tell that she wants to say more, and since she's actively talking, he doesn't want to discourage it. "Things?"

She rolls her eyes. "Naggy aunts and uncles turn into naggy sisters. She's insistent that I get married. Hate it."

"You're still young." He replies, "You've got time. If you even want to get married, that is."

She snorts. "How old do you think I am, Daniel?"

"Trick question?"

Ellie rolls her eyes. Even in the gloom he can see that she's smirking. "Go on. No tricks."

This isn't a question that he's had to answer before, fortunately. "Uh. Early to mid 20s?"

She snorts again. "Daniel, I'm thirty. We're practically the same age." 

"Huh." He can't see it in her face, but it makes sense. She's not immature like a lot of the younger SGC members, a little more grounded. "Really?"

"Yeah. Birthday was a month or so back."

"Huh." That gives him another question, something to fill the silence. "How'd you end up here? No offense, but most of the people on our teams with your rank... tend to be a little younger." 

"Rude." She replies, but there's no heat in it. "Studied one thing at college, changed my mind, found something else, studied lots, Air Force, now I'm here. Guarantee a lot of people in the SGC have the same story." 

"Not me."

"No." She looks over at him, studies his face for a moment. "Not you."

He doesn't look away. Her pupils are huge, whether from the head injury, or from something else. 

"You've found something you like though." He says. "That's what matters."

"Yeah." She bites her lip. "Yeah, I have."

There's a moment where he's afraid of what might happen, of what she might say or do next, but it passes, a shadow falling across her face for a moment, and her lucidity is gone. Her eyes roll back.

"No. No. You're not sleeping, Ellie. Come on." He manages to rouse her again, but he knows it's not going to keep up this way for much longer. The wound dressing on the back of her head is soaked through with blood.

Daniel tapes another one to it and doesn't say anything. "Come on. Tell me more. What did you study? I love hearing about different college programmes in our field." 

"It's boring." She slurs, her voice definitely worse than it had been a moment or two ago. 

"It's really not. Look at me. If I hadn't found the SGC I would almost definitely be a professor by now. Stuck in an ancient college building."

"Books and sweaters." She says. 

He's sure he can see her smile, in the gloom. "Books and sweaters. Glasses too, probably. That'd be quite the style."

"It'd suit you."

"Mm." He doesn't quite know how to answer that. "What did you study?"

She slurs her way through a degree programme made up of Linguistics, Classics and History, as well as a Masters and the beginnings of a PHD. "Was working on my thesis when the SGC came calling." She says, words thick like treacle in her mouth. "I'll do it one day."

"What was it on?"

She doesn't say anything for a moment, and for a second he thinks she's fallen asleep again, but no, she's just hesitant to talk about it. 

"Come on." He says, and nudges her with his elbow. "With all this build up, you've got to tell me. You're leaving out the best bit. Even if it's embarrassing or sensitive, I won't be weirded out."

"Mhmm." She says, and doesn't say anything more.

"Seriously. I spent all of last year writing a journal article on Egyptian gender and sexuality, something that absolutely could have been seen as sensitive by the United States military. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than that. I spent at least three pages talking about phallic symbolism."

She giggles, and with that, the spell seems to have broken. She doesn't seem ashamed, not really, just a little bit... anxious?

"It was magnificent." He says. "Some journal, can't remember which right now - I'll beg that it's the head injury, but I genuinely think I've forgotten, is going to publish it soon. I'll send you a copy when it comes out."

"I'd like that." She says, quietly, then, "I was inspired by your work on Mesopotamian proverbs and started writing my thesis on the use of pronouns in Mesopotamian language. I cited a bunch of things from your 1994 piece." 

"Oh." He says, then again, "Oh. Thank you." 

"You absolutely do not need to thank me." Ellie says, and looks up at him. Her eyes are very dark. "Your work is excellent. I read most of it... and then I met you. Funny how small the world is."

"Funny." He says. "You should see the rest of the universe. SG-1 and I keep on running into the same people all the time. Statistically, this shouldn't happen, but yet, it does."

"Like now." 

"Like now." He repeats.

She pillows her head down on her knees again, sighing softly. "Feel bad." 

"I know. We'll be out of here soon." 

Her head still hasn't stopped bleeding. It's slow, but it's soaking through the wound dressing on the back of her scalp like it isn't even there. "We have beacons, they'll get us out."

Caving beacons had become a lifesaver ever since he got into his last cave in. They could be tracked through layers and layers of rock, and had helped rescue teams find SGC members stuck in perilous positions. He just wished they could work in other situations. 

"Yeah." She sighs and groans. "Hurts."

He rubs her back. "Symptoms?"

"Head hurts. Back too. Nausea, the glowsticks are hurting my eyes."

Plus periods of lucidity, and a desire to sleep... textbook concussion. Not ideal. "You really need to see a doctor. We'll get you out of here soon and then Janet will fix you up. It'll be fine."

He hopes his voice is a little more confident than he feels. There's a lot of rock above them, and Ellie doesn't have an endless blood supply. He swallows. Not ideal. Not ideal at all.

She's quietly breathing beside him for a moment or two when he realises she's fallen asleep again.

This time, it's harder to wake her. "Ellie. Come on. Snap out of it." 

She blearily lifts her head and leans back against his shoulder. "Let me sleep."

"Nope. Bad idea."

"I want to."

"Yeah, and I know your brain wants you to, but we'll leave the sleeping part until Janet gets here, okay?" She's gone pale by now, and that worries him. She doesn't look great, and the sheer amount of blood covering both her head and his arm is... profuse.

"What languages do you speak?" He asks, trying to pull for something more interesting to ask, and failing. He's genuinely worried now, and wonders if he should start yelling for help, to hurry the rescue teams along. 

"Lots."

"Yeah, lots isn't an answer though, is it?" He asks, and elbows her again. He knows he's being annoying, can't help it, because if his field first aid training taught him anything, sleeping off a concussion in an unsafe space is a very bad idea.

"Korean. French. Spanish. Sumerian, Babylonian, Assyrian. Couple others." 

He starts up a conversation with her in French, nothing too heavy, just basic, first grade stuff. She stumbles, picks it up for a few lines, then drops it again. Same with Spanish. All of her language skills are there - she clearly has the knowledge, has the grammatical rules, can form sentences - but she can't pull the words from her memory.

Not good at all. 

"You're doing great." He soothes, though he doesn't feel it. "Feeling any better?"

"Cold." She says, suddenly pulling at her jacket, trying to pull it around her knees. "So cold. Why's it so cold, Daniel? Wasn't this cold before."

"Head wound. Concussion." He says, having been through it before more than once. Not great, all the same. "I have a sleeping bag in my pack. One minute."

He lays her gently back against the wall and crawls back to his half-buried pack. They hadn't anticipated staying overnight, but he knows trouble, and he knows his life, so he'd packed one regardless.

She's only just awake when he crawls back in her direction, eyes hooded shut, with only thin gaps of white remaining. "Cold, Daniel."

"Yeah, I know." He unzips the sleeping bag, a feeling of dread low in the pit of his stomach. This isn't good. This isn't good at all. "Can I-"

The gesture is obvious. She doesn't go pink this time, but does look faintly embarrassed, despite her condition. "Yeah."

He tucks the opened sleeping bag around her body, underneath her, and negotiates her until she's lying propped gently up against his chest. He tucks the remaining edge of the sleeping bag underneath his right side and leans back against the wall, trying to ignore the blood from her wound oozing onto his shirt. 

It's intimate, this. It always is, slightly. Something about the human contact and the closeness of the touch. He's done it many times, usually in less clothes sharing sleeping bags on frozen ice planets, but this feels a little stranger than usual.

Maybe it's because he doesn't really know her. Maybe it's because of the crush.

Regardless, it's strange. 

"You still with me?" He murmurs, his voice husky, compressed against her back.

"Yeah." She hums, barely higher than a whisper. "Warmer now."

"Good." He replies. He doesn't know how that works, how a psychosomatic chill is cured by a sleeping bag and a warm body, but he won't complain. He doesn't complain. If it's working, it's working.

Gods, he wishes the rescue would hurry up. If there is a rescue. He hopes there's a rescue. He really, really hopes.

There are worse ways to go, but this isn't a fun experience. Next time he's definitely bringing more headlamps. 

"You... seeing anyone?" She slurs, and that's one hell of a question.

He debates on his answer, realises it hardly matters cause she definitely won't remember it when they're back at Stargate Command, and says, "No." It's not that there's not... people, but he wouldn't call them 'relationships'. He doesn't know why he asks, "You?"

"No." She replies, and stretches weakly out for one of his hands.

He lets her take it, under the sleeping bag, and rub absentminded patterns into his knuckles and fingers. Her warmth is nice against his body, a constant pressure, and he knows that he too could fall asleep if he let himself. But he can't. He also has a head injury, though significantly more slight, and he needs to keep Ellie awake. 

"If I die..." She says, and trails off.

Never good. It's never good when someone feels their mortality slipping away, because a lot of the time, they're right.

"You're not going to die." He soothes. "Don't be ridiculous."

She grips his thumb a little tighter. "You don't know." Stubbornly, she continues, "If I die. Find my sister. Tell her that I lo-"

She trails off again, but this time it dissolves into a round of coughing. She drops his hands, thrashing wildly in the sleeping bag, and pulls in a breath. "If I- if I- tell her I lo-"

She loves her sister. He knows. He's heard it all before, told it to so many families and loved ones. Doesn’t mean the admission doesn’t mean something. "I don't need to tell her that you love her, you're going to see her yourself soon. Once we get out of here."

His voice sounds much more confident than he feels. 

"Was gonna say- tell her I loathe her fashion sense." She says, through another bout of coughing. "And..."

She breathes in heavily, and he rubs her back, feeling the softness of her skin under her jacket, her warmth, her strength, her pain. 

"And that I love her." She finishes.

"I will." He says, because what else can he say?

It is at that moment that there's another round of shaking. Heavy, disorienting, exactly like moments before the last rockfall. Shit. 

He scrambles out from beneath her, leans her up against the wall and covers her with the sleeping bag. Then, he leans over her, covering her torso and head with his body, protecting her.

Around them, rocks begin to fall.

  
  
  


The beeping is annoying. But not, however, a bad sign.

Daniel groans and opens his eyes. It's very bright, so he shuts them again. 

"Good morning to you too, Daniel." Jack says, from where he's reclining on a chair by the side of his bed. "The sun says hello!"

"I've not seen the sun in days, Jack." Daniel says, opening one eye gingerly. Still too bright, and his lips hurt. "Seriously. It must be a week since I went up to the surface."

"Nearly two!" Jack choruses, seeming genuinely very pleased. "Comas are a good time, aren't they? I recommend them to all the discerning folk."

"Wait. Comas?" Daniel opens his eyes, brightness be damned, and sits upright. His head throbs, insanely.

"Nope. You've gotta stay in bed. Doctor's orders." Jack pushes him back down. “Nurse Callaghan?”

One of the nurses comes trotting over, looking pleased to see him awake. She tests his vision, his reflexes, feels his lymph nodes - it’s all very routine and not what he wants right now. “How are you feeling, Dr Jackson?” She asks.

“Head hurts, insanely thirsty. How’s Ellie-” He stops himself. “Uh. Satterfield?”

“She’s still unconscious, Dr Jackson.” Nurse Callaghan says, “Though her wounds are healing up nicely. However, we had to treat you for internal bleeding.”

Explains why he’s still feeling terrible. “Really?”

“When you were pulling your little hero moment, nice work by the way-” Jack starts.

“It’s what anyone else would have done.”

“Whatever. During the second quake a whole bunch of rocks got you near the kidneys. I don’t want to be you for the next while, I gotta say.” Jack finishes, with a snark, as always, though it’s clear he’s been a little worried.

“Satterfield’s okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

It’s Nurse Callaghan who answers. “Serious head trauma, to be expected. She’s got a broken foot and other surface injuries. We’ll have to see what the damage is when she wakes up.”

The _if_ is unspoken.

He slumps back, thoughts jangling around his head. “Shit.”

Nurse Callaghan walks off, after checking some of his monitors.

“Ellie, huh?” Jack leans in. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that.”

“Don’t start.” 

He learns, through Jack and Teal’c and Sam over the next few days that the rest of the SG teams got away with only minor injuries. Daniel and Satterfield had been closest to the source of the rockfall, so they’d gotten the worst of it.

“The gate’s now completely buried, I suspect.” Sam says. “We tried to dial back in yesterday and it wouldn’t even connect.”

“And we didn’t even expect tectonic plate activity?” Daniel asks. “Unbelievable.”

“Perhaps it’s localised, or perhaps it was a once in a lifetime event?” Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. If we ever find a gate close enough to that planet to look, maybe we’ll find out.” 

“It’s a shame.” Daniel says, “I was really interested in some of those frescos.”

  
  


Daniel heals, feels better and better during the next week or so, but Satterfield still doesn’t wake up. He gets discharged, gets back to work, pushes through - but he can’t help thinking about the scientist, stuck in a coma, trapped in her mind. 

He actually gets the call when he’s off base, taking a couple of leave days between missions. 

“Your gal’s awake.” Jack says, without any preamble. “Talking and everything as well. You people, with your annoying good brains - the last time I was in a coma it took me two weeks to-”

Daniel rings off before he can even start on the ‘your gal’ comment.

Before he leaves his house, he makes one quick clothing change. He gets a couple of odd looks on his way into the base, but he’s absolutely done worse for less.

Teal’c gives him a considering nod as he makes his way towards the medbay. 

“Your attire is interesting, Daniel Jackson. Is it not many months until your-”

“Yep, Teal’c, I know. It’s a joke. Or something. Maybe?”

He just nods again, and lets him pass.

  
  


Ellie’s surrounded by her team members when he gets to the medbay. Janet sighs, obviously reluctant to let him join them, but she steps out of his way anyway. 

“She’s still hurt.” She says. “Don’t overtire her.”

“I won’t be the one doing the overtiring, look at how many friends she has.”

She just shakes her head at him as he passes.

“Dr… Jackson?” Ellie says, face widening into a bright smile as she spots him. She struggles to sit up, and bats away her team members’ arms when they try to help. “Go away for a minute, guys, I’m fine. Let me talk to Doctor Jackson alone.”

There’s a couple of wolf whistles from two of the members of the team, but they do wander off pretty fast after that. 

“First of all, Ellie, call me Daniel.” He reminds her. “I think we’ve been through enough together that first names are fine.”

She doesn’t really answer, just looks over him for a moment, eyes running across his form.

“That shirt is… something special.” She says, looking down at his chest. She giggles. “Did you get many strange looks?”

“Oh, so many.” He says, settling down in the chair by her bed. The anxiety, the tightness in his chest he’s been feeling for the last few days is slowly unknotting, slowly relaxing. She’s fine. Well, not fine, but alive, and healing. “You try wearing an ugly holiday t-shirt around a military base in July, you see how people like it, let alone one like this.”

It’s lurid, impossibly so, with little snowflakes. IO SATURNALIA is printed across the front in some kind of snowy font. Absolutely absurd. He got it from a colleague at college.

She snorts. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

“Thank you.”

“Also…” Her expression turns a little shy. “Thank you. For saving my life. Daniel.”

“Since you saved mine during the training exercise, I think we’re even.” He says, and nudges her with his elbow. 

“No, but really thank you.” She blushes again, a hint of pink creeping into her cheeks. “I heard that I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t been there.”

“I would have done the same for anyone… and especially someone who had cited my work in their first published journal article.” He says, a little slyly. He had looked up her work when he’d been discharged, had found out some interesting things. “Excellent read, by the way.”

If it’s possible, her blush seems to deepen. “You found that, did you?”

“I did. You make some good claims.” It had been intelligent, well-written, and well-articulated. “I look forward to reading more of your work.”

“Thanks…”

“Seriously, though. Us - even. Whoever ends up saving the next person’s life - that one has a debt.”

Her eyes widen. “You think we’ll be working together again? We’ll spend more time together?”

“Somehow, I think we might.” And carefully, gingerly, as not to knock any of the masses of bandages over her face, he kisses her on the cheek.

She lets out a gentle sigh. “Good.”

  
  


And they do. 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com)


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